


The Prince's Funeral

by shoujokakumei



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: Characters tagged in order of apperance, F/F, Gen, Swords of Hate, Utena as the Prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2077980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoujokakumei/pseuds/shoujokakumei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An obituary for the living</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince's Funeral

The prince floated, suspended by the swords humanity had forged with a flash of blinding light, shouts of hate coursing around the twitching form. There was a crowd, a horrible, throbbing crowd that burned like a forest fire in the midst of a drought. 

"Witch"

"Liar!"

"Bitch!"

The crowd shouted these at a earth-shaking volume, and the prince flinched and cringed with each word, each word a sword.

Suddenly, the throbbing crowd parted, still burning, and a young girl walked through. She was small, and her face was the same charred black as all the crowd. The prince looked down on her, eyes watering, and sputtered. The little girl spoke, soft voice carrying over the shrieks of the swords, not louder, yet more audible.

"You were never meant to become the prince," the girl said, and lifted her face towards the prince’s. The prince would’ve shouted. That was a worse fate than the fiery crowd.

Another being came down the path the girl had wrought, a tall boy with a voice like an ass’s.

"Nor were you to be the paladin," he said, and the smirk on his voice was as painful as the little girl’s words. The prince shed a tear for a life lost.

Two beings came down the path the boy and young girl had walked, and they spoke with the voices of wolves and infants.

"The forest could never accept you, nor the cradle," they said, and the prince shuddered with more tears, because the forest was warm with life and the cradle was kind.

One being came along the path, and stood next to one of the two beings. It’s voice was that of ginger.

"You could never be the lover, or-" Another being ran down the path, and finished the other’s sentence, "Or the whore. You were to noble for both." The prince sobbed for the death of all love.

Another being walked down the road, holding a basket of eggs and leading a cow. Her voice was haughty, like a queen unhumbled.

"The fool just wouldn’t suit you, even if you wished." And the prince was thankful for that, yet still cried more.

Another figure swaggered down the path, looking down on the crowd. he spoke with the voice of an asp.

"You wouldn’t make a knight. Chivalry was to antique for you." The prince wanted to block out his words, and the tears landed on the bloodied ground.

This being pranced down the path on light feet, sheets of paper flying from her hands. She spoke with laughter and sadness and anger all at once.

"You couldn’t be a princess," She said, holding the sheets to the prince, "A princess would’ve remembered this." And the prince reached for the girl, in a jerking movement, but the girl stepped back.

A final figure came down the path. Her eyes shined, and as she looked on the figures, their true faces appeared. She walked to the prince, wiped the blood and tears from her face, and spoke with the voice of a wild rose.

"You were never meant for any role. You were new and terrifying from the start, fascinatingly so." She clasped her hands around the prince’s shoulders, locking them in a tender embrace. The swords flew away and the crowd stopped its frantic dance.

"Utena," Anthy sighed into her ear, "It’s time to come home."


End file.
